


[and i ran] all night and day

by Lua



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Steter Week 2017, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/pseuds/Lua
Summary: With everything that happens in their lives, sometimes they need a distraction or else they'd risk going crazy.[steter week - day three]





	[and i ran] all night and day

It all started because Derek went missing or so they would say and they were both known for their lies.

In fact, it started way before that – months before that – when Stiles bargained for Lydia's life as her blood dripped down Peter's chin and it was clear that no matter how much Peter pushed, Stiles was willing to push back. They knew it started because Stiles thought he was going to die in a poorly lit hospital hallway and at his first formal out in the lacrosse field and in the silent parking garage, but he didn’t, and he didn’t, and he didn’t.

Then Peter died, and Stiles didn’t, and it felt like a game they were playing, a gamble they were taking and when Peter was dead and Stiles wasn’t, it felt like Peter lost and Stiles won. It was odd, but it had established their dynamics, and they were both creatures of habit.

It all started because they met outside Derek's loft. It wasn't planned - at least not on Stiles' side - but Stiles had every reason to suspect Peter followed him there and every reason not to believe him if he said he didn’t when the werewolf all but materialized behind Stiles.

Peter sneered a few steps behind him and Stiles almost jumped out of his own skin. No one did that sort of thing by accident.

Peter thought the scent of frantic anxiety and anger coming from Stiles was an unfitting combination for the careful attempt at breaking into Derek’s place that he seemed to be contemplating at the time. It was amusing even as Stiles glared at Peter for the interruption.

Stiles glared at him, nose wrinkling in a combination of annoyance and... something.

Peter shrugged.

"There is no one inside," the werewolf told Stiles, watching him.

Peter was always watching.

"It had to be you," Stiles accused but his tone was neutral enough for the accusation to not be hostile. Stiles grabbed the handle of the door and tried it a couple times in a show of frustration.

“Stiles,” Peter called and it was enough to make the teen stop. Peter let it pass as a greeting, but they were smarter than that.

They stared at each other until Peter looked away, faking exasperation and rolling his eyes.

"You came to find Derek. Derek isn't here. You can go now," Peter spelled out for him.

"What-" Stiles did a double take at the door as if Peter’s words meant he missed something. "Are you the new security guard of the building? I get that finding a job can be tough when you can't update your resume. Wait, do you have one?” he frowned, genuinely curious. “Are you even considered alive?" Peter glared at Stiles, wrinkling his nose and showing just enough teeth for Stiles to let go. “Fine, shutting up now.”

Peter sighed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a key.

“You have a key,” Stiles stated flatly. “Of course, you have a key. Why do you have a key?”

“He’s my nephew.”

Despite the key, neither of them moved; both of them already knowing something was wrong and both of them taking the other’s presence as confirmation that something was wrong.

Peter had learned his lesson. He knew he had to know where his pack was and if they were safe and if they were bringing doom back home with them. Peter had to be ready. The pack had to be ready.

Derek had been missing for at least a week now.

Stiles had to be the one to bring that information to their alpha. Peter couldn’t – wouldn’t – lose his family because his alpha didn’t protect them.

Again.

He would have everything ready to act. He would have everyone in place to act. All he needed was for them to know and to want to act accordingly. He needed Stiles to know.

“Stiles, please,” he said with a sly smile. “Isn’t it time you start trusting me?”

Stiles took a step towards Peter to get the key and the werewolf gave him an amused look.

 “Trust you,” Stiles snorted and looked away for a second before looking back at Peter’s face, so he could watch his expressions. “I have a long list of people I could trust before I would even consider trusting you and some of them have made a better effort on trying to kill me.”

“I’m hurt, Stiles,” Peter replied, unimpressed. “Truly.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and reached for the key, but dropped his hand before he touched it.

Stiles frowned for a moment. Peter already knew something was wrong and, yet, here they were, playing with the door key as if there was no emergency. Maybe there wasn’t one.

Peter knew something.

“What do you know?” he finally asked, watching the key for a few seconds before looking at Peter.

The werewolf watched him with renewed interest and Stiles shifted from one leg to another. It’s been weeks of being painfully aware of a stillness that didn’t belong to his own body. Under Peter’s gaze, the uncomfortable task of pretending he wasn’t getting used to his own body all over again seemed almost impossible so Stiles watched him with poorly hidden suspicion instead. It was easy to work out on his own that Peter knew something. Stiles and Peter had been weirdly synchronized since the moment they met and Stiles wasn't sure if he was disturbed by it or glad it happened because it likely saved his life.

And yet, this was odd. Peter expected something from this exchange and Stiles didn’t like being left in the dark.

In the end, Peter rolled his eyes in such a way he moved his head and ended up glaring at the door while Stiles kept watching his face. Stiles reached for the key again and he almost expected Peter to pull it away, but, for some reason, he didn’t. The werewolf knew something, and he definitely wanted something.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter and then looked at the door through the corner of his eyes.

It was beyond odd.

“Derek has been missing,” Peter murmured, and everything made sense. There was panic creeping back into Peter's eyes before he closed them.

Stiles turned around and unlocked the door.

They set the dynamics of their relationship months ago when Stiles thought Peter would tear him apart in a hospital hallway. There was no forgiveness between them; they did what they had to do. Stiles refused to feel intimidated. He bargained for Lydia's life over her body while she was bleeding on the lacrosse field and Peter roared on his face with blood dripping down his chin. Stiles pushed back, he refused to cooperate out of fear, he accused Peter of killing his nurse when the memory of her lying in a pool of her own blood for him to escape was still fresh on his mind. Peter was dangerous, but he wasn't scary.

Not to Stiles.

Stiles, on the other hand, was terrifying to Peter. Even as he walked into Derek’s loft in a state of frantic anxiety that didn’t fit the carefulness with which was holding himself he terrified the werewolf. Stiles looked around, paying attention, trying to understand what happened and when he saw the bullet shells he turned to Peter who was still by the door.

He pulled his phone out and tried to call Derek, knowing as well as the werewolf that there would be no answer.

“You can keep the key,” Peter said. “Bring your pet Alpha in the morning.”

Stiles considered it and after a moment he nodded. Peter’s motivation seemed clear enough, desperate enough.

They stayed there, in the poorly lit apartment, in silence, for another moment.

"I do have an apartment downtown," Peter offered in a nonchalant tone.

Peter wasn’t sure how sincere his own offer was or that he even meant it originally – the question hadn't even been asked and it wouldn't be asked – but it was clear in what it was implying. They both heard it: Do you want to go someplace else?

Stiles held Peter's gaze and wondered, not for the first time, where Peter could take him. They both knew there was more trust between them than they would ever admit out loud and all the potential for so much more. They recognize the other’s lies and it was easy to ignore them, to use them to paint an image that didn’t fit with the actions but that suited what they needed the other to be because they wanted something and there was always a price to pay.

Stiles wanted to be a good person; he wanted to make up for things a dark spirit did while wearing his face, but...he also wanted to take a leap and see how far he could sink on his own. And here was Peter, meeting him, offering something that wasn’t salvation and that wasn’t absolution but that sounded like a solution.

Stiles laughed. It sounded good; he wanted to say yes but it was Peter, and Derek was missing.

“Seriously?”

 “You have a dirty mind, Stiles. I mean for research,” Peter said, and Stiles scoffed at him, not believing a single word.

“That was a cliché move, if I ever saw one.”

They met at Derek's loft and Stiles had every reason to suspect Peter had followed him there. But that was what they did; that was their dance. So, when Peter pushed, Stiles pushed back.

"Obviously I'm crazy," Peter arched an eyebrow at him.

"Delusional," Stiles agreed. "A raving lunatic."

Peter snorted, asserting Stiles. He could smell the anxiety and he was fairly confident he would be able to call the bluff even without that.

Peter knew sometimes you must let go before you break things. He would rather break them, he would rather never let go, and it seemed he could take a hold of Stiles. If Stiles was the same – as he seemed to be – they would burn brightly together, even if they weren’t meant to last.

"What are you then?"

“Yeah, yeah. Come on,” Stiles shrugged and put the key in his pocket. He would come back later, probably with Scott, and find out what Peter was up to. “Let’s go.”

They drove to Peter’s place on Stiles’ car. Stiles drummed on the wheel as he drove. It was the second time they sat in silence in the Jeep and the silence was only broken by Peter's instructions. He reached out and turned on the radio. ZZ Top was playing.

Peter kept watching Beacon Hills as they drove through it to get to his place.

Peter smiled at the window, giving Stiles a few seconds before he turned around to face him. To rethink his decisions. They wouldn’t find Derek in one night, without Scott’s help. Peter could smell gunpowder since the first time he stepped in the loft and Derek was gone; he had people after any word on his nephew and all he needed now was his pack doing what an actual pack would do in a situation like this. He was convinced Derek wasn’t dead, but that did nothing to keep the fear away. He had lost so many people.

The knowledge of why Stiles was here was overwhelming. He could kick Peter out, tell him to run to his place and fuck off. Forget it.

Stiles startled him by putting a hand on his arm. Peter grind his teeth and held back a growl; the display did nothing but make Stiles arch an eyebrow and ask: “Are we here?”.

They both know they weren’t going to save Derek tonight, but Peter nodded anyway and let Stiles park the car. The song had changed three times and Stiles was still drumming his fingers to the rhythm of two songs ago.

“I’m sure he’s still alive,” Stiles said. “I mean, he should’ve died so many times that it’s not even funny. He wouldn’t have really died this time around just to spite me. Come on, man, not cool,” Stiles got out of the Jeep. “We just have to find him.”

“You don’t do much for morale, Stiles,” Peter told him, following him out of the car and walking towards the building. He had never brought anyone home with him; he never wanted to risk it.

“I do wonders for morale. I’m a fucking cheerleader,” Stiles corrected him when he caught up.

Peter rolled his eyes again but didn’t reply. He pressed the elevator button and listened to it.

Derek had been missing for a week and Peter would like to be able to stop acknowledging that for a night. He was terrified. He wasn’t sure they weren’t going to be pulled into a night of actual research.

Or so Peter thought for brief few seconds because he didn't expect Stiles to push him against the wall of the elevator as soon as the doors opened with cold eyes and overflowing frustration. Peter's eyes glowed blue and he felt like roaring but didn’t, grabbing Stiles' shirt and suddenly unsure.

The kiss was a surprise.

He looked at Stiles and Stiles offered him a smile.

“You were the one who used a pick-up line. Did you really bring me here to work on how to save Derek? Should I call Scott?” The idea of Scott joining them right now made Peter flinch. Running head first into this situation without a plan would never do anyone any good. “Thought so, too.”

Peter smirked, and Stiles glanced at Peter's eyes to Peter's lips then back to his eyes. The corner of Peter's lips twitched but the smirk didn't go away until Stiles moved forward in a kiss that could've easily become a headbutt with how impatient it was. Peter put his hands on Stiles’ waist, kissing him back just as intensely. He held him tightly and twirled them when the doors opened, shielding him from view in case it was needed.

Peter backed away and wiped the saliva from around his lips with his fingertips, taking the lead and walking down the hallway to his apartment. He needed the distraction. Truth be told, the situation was getting out of control; he desperately could use this type of distraction. Wasn’t that how he got here?

He paused by the door. He didn’t know what Stiles was doing here. Maybe he was just horny but maybe he had a plan. It was too late now, Peter had shown him where lived, what use was to hesitate by the door when all Stiles needed he already had. Peter looked at him.

Stiles held his arms folded tightly across his chest in an attempt to keep himself still, but his heart betrayed him anyway. He was nervous. Horny and nervous. Peter wondered if this was his going to be his first time. He hoped it wasn’t.

He let Stiles into his apartment, closing the door behind them and disarming the alarm. When he turned around, he was pushed against the door.

Peter didn't hold him this time. He didn't touch his face, nor did he put his hands on Stiles’ body. He was trying to understand the urgency of Stiles’ movements.

They stared at each other for a moment. In the end, Peter leaned in and kissed Stiles. The kiss was a pressure against Stiles' lips and a faint itch caused by Peter's beard coming in. It was underwhelming.

When he backed away again, Peter was still too close, and Stiles glanced from his eyes to his lips too many times. It had been an awkward kiss and it was good that it didn’t last long. It had been just enough for Stiles to feel the pressure of Peter’s lips against his own and to think to himself how surprising it was the complete lack of fangs.

They looked at each other. Stiles licked his bottom lip.

“Not to be rude, but you always talked a big game and that…” he shrugged, wrinkling his nose for a couple seconds.

Peter rolled his eyes in that very Hale way. Stiles had theories about that.

“Are you asking me for a kiss, Stiles?”

“No. I’m saying whatever that was, it was underwhelming.”

“Sounds to me like you want a proper kiss.”

Stiles shrugged. Peter held his chin and pressed his lips against Stiles, teasing them open with the tip of his tongue before pressing in and kissing him like he had meant to do all along.

Stiles moved his hips up, rubbing himself against Peter’s hip. Peter moved his hands to Stiles’ ass, deepening the kiss and pulling him close as he gave him support to keep trying to get some friction. Stiles bit Peter’s bottom lip, sucking on it before pulling away to look at him.

“Am I a distraction?”

“For fuck’s sake, Stiles,” Peter gave him a blank look. “Do you need it in writing?”

Peter grabbed the back of Stiles’ thigh and pulled it up, around his waist, thrusting against him while keeping him close. Stiles met his movements, grabbing Peter’s shirt at his shoulder for support. With each thrust, Stiles could feel the air being forced out of his lungs and he licked his lips every now and then to keep them from drying out with the panting. He kept his eyes locked on Peter's and his hand on Peter's shoulder. He wasn't the first to look away.

Peter closed his eyes, supporting himself against the wall for a few moments before pressing himself against Stiles and turning them around, pushing Stiles against the door and putting a hand next to his head.

The kiss, this time, was an afterthought but he met Stiles halfway.

"I actually have a bed not far away," Peter informed Stiles.

"Shut up," Stiles pushed at him and Peter stepped back, but left his hand on Stiles' hip long enough for the invitation to be made clear. Before he recoiled, there was a hint of claws and a smirk on his lips.

They moved to bed between kisses and starved touches. Stiles lost his shirt in the hallway when Peter pushed him against the wall and his hands up his shirt, dragging the tips of his clawed fingers up his sides, enjoying the shiver that ran down Stiles’ body. Stiles pushed him back, decided on finding just as many weak spots but Peter's breath was warm on his neck and it got his eyes closed and it made Stiles' dick twitch, demanding attention.

They got to the bedroom, and Stiles got rid of his own shoes while Peter was still getting off his shirt. He lay in bed and watched the werewolf. Peter sat beside him and put his hand on Stiles' knee. It was surprisingly gentle. He moved his hand up Stiles' thigh, barely touching and watching Stiles' face. There was something intimate and awkward about lying there and letting Peter touch him while making a conscious effort to not do the same.

"A teaser, why am I not surprised," Stiles snorted.

Peter rolled his eyes and Stiles could feel a hint of claws. It was there for a second and then they were gone.

It occurred to Stiles that Peter's control could slip during sex.

"Any werewolfy concerns I should have? Any clawing or biting to be expected?"

"No more than usual," Peter told him and then smirked. "But to each their kinks."

Stiles snorted and watched as Peter started unzipping his pants. He couldn't keep completely still and he didn't really want to move so, as a result, he kept shaking his left leg. Peter's gentleness was more anxiety-inducing than his roaring and his claws and Lydia's blood dripping down his chin. Stiles wanted to tell him to hurry up.

"We can stop if this is being too underwhelming," Peter offered, picking up on the annoyance in Stiles' scent.

Stiles couldn't help but always feel a little violated by that. A couple sniffles and they were all acting like they read Stiles' mind somehow.

“Just hurry.”

Peter watched him and, not for the first time, he wondered what Stiles was doing. He wondered if Stiles knew what a fantastic distraction sex was and and wondered, too, what he was trying to ignore.

He threw his pants and underwear away and climbed into the bed, pushing Stiles leg to the side so he could kneel between them and work on getting him completely naked. It didn’t take long and Stiles didn’t seem to mind, watching him work with judgmental eyes that said he wouldn’t be taking so long. Peter sniggered and felt like telling him to undress himself on his own next time.

He leaned over Stiles and cupped his cheek, kissing him gently at first but growing intense as their bodies pressed together and they started trying to thrust against each other, looking for some friction in an uncoordinated way. He pulled back and got up to get the supplies from the bathroom. When he came back, Stiles was sitting on the bed, stroking his own dick with his eyes closed.

Peter stopped, watching him, still holding the lube and the condom.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Clearly,” Stiles sighed, slowing down his pace but keeping on stroking himself.

Peter rolled his eyes and tossed the condom on the bed, sitting down to wait for Stiles to lie down again. He did so, bending his knees and reaching out with one hand for the lube. “I’ll do it. You can watch it this time.”

Peter didn’t miss the ‘this time’ in the sentence, but, as he was getting a show, he thought it was best to not say anything. He sat back and watched as Stiles squirted lube on his fingers and rubbed them together first before pressing one against his ass, rubbing it in. Slowly at first, but soon making room for two. He had his eyes closed, focused on making himself ready. His lips were parted, and his breathing started to pick up when he started moving them. Peter wondered if he should touch him, but he decided to obey and watch it _this time_.

His own hand was wrapped around his dick, lazily caressing himself as he watched Stiles fuck himself with his own fingers, stretching himself to be fucked by Peter. At one point, when Stiles let out a small moan, Peter felt his whole body tense up and he felt tempted to pull Stiles fingers out and just fuck him as he pleased. He wondered if that wasn’t what Stiles was aiming for.

“Stiles…”

Stiles watched him through half opened eyes and bit his bottom lip. He pushed his hips up and twisted his fingers a bit, moaning and closing his eyes again as he did so. Peter reached out and caught his wrist, his claws scratching Stiles’ skin lightly as Peter’s control slipped. Stiles nodded with his eyes still closed.

Peter reached for the condom and put it on, lubbing himself up while Stiles finished preparing himself. He climbed backed to his place between Stiles' legs and pulled him by his hips up on his thighs, just enough so the angle would be right. Peter pressed himself against him, slowly pushing in while keeping a hand on his hip as he guided himself in. Stiles let out a breath, watching him with a lazy expression.

They met at Derek's loft and Stiles had every reason to suspect Peter followed him there and now they were in bed to try to forget that Derek was missing and maybe dead.

Peter moved his hands to Stiles’ ass, holding him tightly and bending his own knee so Stiles would have to raise his leg just enough for the angle to change as he thrust into him. He closed his eyes and let himself be swallowed by Stiles. He liked Stiles.

It had been their established dynamics from the moment Stiles looked at Peter's face smeared with Lydia's blood and decided he refused to back away.

Clever, Peter had called him then. He liked Stiles.

His thrusts grew faster; Stiles moaned and reached out for Peter, not finding anything to hold onto he just dropped his hand and grabbed the sheets. Peter leaned over him and kissed him. It was a messy kiss made messier by the movement. They didn’t mind. Stiles’ dick rubbed against Peter’s stomach but it wasn’t enough. Stiles pushed a hand between them to touch himself.

Peter moaned. He pulled Stiles closer, trying to hold him in place just right for him to fuck him like he needed, just right for him to come. He was panting, they both were. Stiles wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist and pulled him close, trying to keep him still for a moment as he came, legs tensing up around the werewolf. Peter let out a breath and held him tightly, following him soon into the orgasm.

They lay there for a moment, sweaty and tired, enjoying the afterglow. It was relaxing but they couldn’t stay like that forever.

Peter got up to get cleaned up. The sheets smelled of sweat, lube and come. Peter himself smelled of latex, too. He wanted to get rid of the scents, but Stiles was lying comfortably on them.

“Will you tell me what you’re trying to escape from?” Peter asked from the bathroom, knowing full well that Stiles was as much of liar as he himself was.

“I’ll show you my nightmare if you show me yours,” Stiles said and rolled to lie down on his side. “Isn’t that playground rules? Show you mine if you show me yours?” he laughed at his own joke. “I think you’re not very good at playground rules, right. Sharing, not hitting, all the basics…”

Peter glared at him from the bathroom door.

“Just for that, I will not offer you my shower.”

Stiles gasped dramatically and rolled back to lie on his back.

“Heartless!” Peter rolled his eyes. He was growing annoyed. “Hey, Peter,” Stiles called. “We’ll find him, okay. Lydia probably can find him, just…you know… it’ll be fine.” Peter stayed silent for a moment and then nodded. He was sure they would find Derek. He just needed to relax and put his head in order. Stiles snorted. “And I don’t see the point of a shower since I’m spending the night. What? Did you think it was over? Just once and you could kick me out? Now _that’s_ actually heartless.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading it!!
> 
> the title comes from a song called i ran by a flock of seagulls and i feel it's much more connected to how peter needed the distraction right there because of how powerless he felt, having to wait for a pack that wouldn't listen to him
> 
> again, thank you koko for letting me pester you to get courage for posting it


End file.
